


Tremble

by fikidurin



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fikidurin/pseuds/fikidurin
Summary: Kili returns from war with hands that won't stop shaking, and a coldness in his heart that won't go away.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien), Implied Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield - Relationship
Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056737
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28
Collections: GatheringFiKi - 12 Days Of Christmas 2020





	Tremble

**Author's Note:**

> Written for GatheringFiKi's 12 Days of Christmas 2020.

A door slams elsewhere in the house, and in the parlour, Kili’s grip slackens and a candle falls as if in slow motion. He can feel the rifle cartridge tearing through his flesh, the deep burning sensation and fresh ache...

Kili stares at the falling flame, his brain catching up with his hands. Before he has a chance to react, his mother’s low heel Oxfords have quickly extinguished the candle, saving her favourite rug.

“Oh, Kilian, _really_ ,” she sighs, retrieving the candle.

Kili turns away, his body feeling incomprehensibly cold at the admonishment, can’t bear to see the frustration he knows is etched over her face. He doesn’t need another reminder that her only son, the heir to the title of Lord Durin, is now a burden to her.

He doesn’t look down. He doesn’t need to know his hands are shaking. Instead, he balls them into fists.

His mother is still speaking. Kili forces himself to hear what she’s saying.

“—perhaps you should go away somewhere for Christmas. Return for the New Year after you’ve had a chance to rest and recover yourself.”

Try as he might, he can’t help but hear what she’s really saying.

“Yes, mother,” Kili replies dutifully. “I shall make arrangements at once.”

* * *

His mother asks her handmaiden, who asks her sister-in-law’s-cousin-twice-removed, who knows of a reclusive gentleman who will rent out a spare room in his woodland cottage and doesn’t mind that Kili is broken.

Kili accepts quickly. This is outside his mother’s influence, and he knows it is the biggest chance at freedom he has. Heavens knows where she might get the idea to send him if he declines.

He listens to her pointed comments about his recovery, and shoulders his father’s silent shame, and leaves at first light.

Seamus carries the additional weight of his few belongings with ease, and Kili wouldn’t dream of taking another horse. Besides, he imagines the gentleman he’s to lodge with is a recluse for a reason, and Kili likes to talk to someone now and then, even if it is a horse.

A firm squeeze of his calves sees Seamus canter down the long drive, and Kili doesn’t even think to look back at the manor behind him.

Instead, he sees the open gates and the endless stretch of road beyond. He takes in the twinkle of the early morning dew against the branches, reflecting the sienna stirrings of sunrise and smiles.

For the first time since his injury, he feels hope.

* * *

The cottage is cosy.

Small, but not so small that he’ll be under Fili’s feet all the time. 

Kili admits, on approach, he felt some trepidation. The outside looks abandoned, a small sign warning trespassers away from the property. But inside is fully furnished with dark oak fixings, thick blankets, soft armchairs. Inside, the chill of autumn’s end is combated by the roaring fire.

He has his own room, a private wash basin, and the woods surrounding them are held at bay by an enormous clearing where he can ride Seamus as much as he likes. It’s far from the nearest town, and Kili swears he saw a stray reindeer on the way through the woods.

It’s freedom.

Fili is… unusual.

Not what Kili had been picturing at all. His lack of insight had allowed him to form a picture of a much older gentleman, perhaps someone with little idea of the elevated areas of society. A little rough around the edges.

Not so.

Fili is young. Perhaps around the same age as Kili, and twice as handsome. His hair falls in blonde curls over his neck, and his manners are impeccable.

He welcomes Kili as if they were long-lost brothers and gives him free reign of the cottage.

“I retrieve supplies and food tomorrow, and every Tuesday thereafter from town. It means I will be gone most of the day. If you would like to assist, I would enjoy the company. If not, let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to retrieve for you.”

Kili, who hasn’t experienced such kindness since before his journey to war, manages a nod in response. “I thank you for your hospitality.”

Fili waves him off. “I do have a question, Lord Kilian, if you’ll permit me?”

And here it is. Everyone always asks the same thing. If not about the gunshot, then about the extremely visible scar that runs down his cheek, spanning from his eye to his jawline. The scar that had severed his suitable betrothal to the Lady Tauriel, who no longer wished to marry him when he returned from war disfigured.

Kili braces himself.

“How can I help? Your mother sought to inform me that you have the shakes and that you are startled by loud noises. Would you prefer I keep my distance during such episodes, or would company ease your mind?”

“It’s just Kili, and—pardon?” The words take a few seconds to process.

_He didn’t ask about the scar._

Fili raises an eyebrow. “Kili, then. And you’re far from the only casualty of war I’ve housed. I simply ask to avoid us future difficulties.”

“I do not wish to feel like a burden. My mother—” he bites off the words because they feel unkind. His mother simply does not know how he feels. “Please pay me no heed. My episodes are brief.”

Fili nods, pleased. “Good. Then I shall leave you to unpack. Lunch will be ready in an hour.”

He leaves Kili alone, who lets out a long slow breath, and draws a shaking hand from behind his back, squeezing it into a tight fist.

* * *

The first time an episode occurs, Kili shatters a bowl he’d been about to serve himself stew into. Distantly, amidst his haze of crippling panic, he braces himself for Fili to begin cleaning it up, to putter around him and fuss.

He does not.

He remains sitting, eating his stew until Kili lets out a shuddering breath and looks down at the mess. Only then does he leave his seat, and only to hand Kili a broom.

Kili looks at it in confusion, and then over to Fili, who raises an eyebrow mockingly, and takes another bite of his stew.

Though the challenge is not spoken, Kili understands that it’s there. There are no maids here to run around after him. He himself asked to dispense with his title and all that comes with it. This mess is his own. Kili accepts this, and cleans up the mess dutifully.

Once it’s done, he serves himself some stew and sits down next to Fili.

When he dares to look at Fili, he sees an approving smile aimed in his direction.

He finds himself returning it.

* * *

As the days pass by, Kili settles into his new environment.

They have meals together, which are friendly and grow more comfortable by the day. They travel into town together to buy food and ride together in the clearing every day.

Kili finds the pressure on his lungs lessen as time passes. His shakes are less frequent, less severe. 

It has been at least four days since an episode, and those shakes were brought on by the third letter from his parents.

They prattle on about high society, the most recent scandals and betrothals and announcements. Kili suddenly finds he has no interest in the shallow goings-on of a life he was raised into. He reads the letter in its entirety, and then throws it into the fire.

They still do not ask how he is, or when he will return.

His hands tremble and he sinks down onto the loveseat, and tries to work out what the strange noise is he hears. 

It’s only when he feels a comforting weight of a blanket slide across his shoulders, and a gentle palm against his back, fingers splayed, that he realises the noise is _him_.

Broken sobs, reverberating into his hollow chest, escaping him unbidden. His eyes remain dry, free of tears, but inside it feels like his heart is breaking.

“Kili, hey, you’re okay. Just breathe with me.”

He wonders if, meeting Fili’s eyes, he’ll see those same cracks mirrored on his skin, showing him broken on the outside. If the fractures that mark his insides have finally reached the surface and announce to the world that he is beyond repair.

Kili forces himself to look, but sees no judgement reflected back at him. What he sees is a brief glimpse of affection, of warmth. In that particular instance, he sees how Fili sees him. There are cracks in his exterior, but nothing major and nothing that affects the beauty of the whole.

It feels only right, then, to lean in and gently press a kiss to Fili’s mouth.

It lasts only a moment, and Kili pulls back before Fili has a chance to react.

Fili does not get up and walk away, nor does he yell or throw a punch or ask Kili to leave. He stays, his hand a steadying comfort where it’s pressed against Kili’s back.

But when Kili sneaks a glance at him, he sees the slight downturn of his mouth, and wonders if perhaps he just made a huge mistake.

* * *

Nothing changes after the kiss.

Fili is perhaps a little more reserved, but he doesn’t avoid Kili or treat him any differently.

There appears to be some sort of unspoken agreement between them that they won’t discuss it, and Kili honours that. He hasn’t forgotten his manners, and he’s still a guest in Fili’s home.

Regardless of how he feels.

His hands tremble, but no longer a reminder of the trauma he endured. Instead, they tremble with the need to touch Fili, to cup his face and bring their lips together. To curl into his gorgeous hair and devour him.

Kili doesn’t know where the intensity of his feelings has come from. He just knows he can see it reflected back at him from the way Fili is careful not to press their thighs together when he sits down. Or the way he stares when he thinks Kili can’t see him.

They lace up their winter boots and ride into town together one last time in the days before Christmas is upon them. They need to stock up, as the sudden snowfall is getting heavier and Fili suspects they might not be able to get back next week.

Kili has agonised over what kind of gift would be suitable for Fili for the last week. He wants to repay him for opening up his home, but that feels like an obligation.

He wants to give a gift to Fili because he likes him. Because they are friends. Because of the lingering possibility that they will become something more.

He discards the concept of anything frivolous or expensive. Kili knows Fili would not appreciate it. He lives a life of simplicity.

So Kili picks out a sweater, a chunky aran-knit, soft and warm. The cream will look beautiful with his golden hair, he thinks. And he might pay a higher price for a quality sweater, so as a gift, it’s both indulgent and practical.

In the end, he’s satisfied with his gift, and tips a little extra to have it wrapped nicely, a shiny purple wrapping paper and satin golden-tan poinsettia leaves held in place by a thick string.

The anticipation leaves a knot in his stomach, and he finds himself simultaneously awaiting and dreading Christmas.

* * *

Christmas arrives and the blizzard howling around the cottage lets Kili know that they’re not going anywhere today. He edges into the living room, looking around for Fili, the gift held behind his back.

He doesn’t expect him to be sitting in front of the fire, lost in thought. Fili always seems unflappable, but it’s clear that he’s troubled.

For a moment, Kili is hesitant to approach, but finds his courage. He settles down on the threadbare rug, crossing his legs, his stockinged feet beneath his knees.

“I’ve never been a big fan of Christmas,” Fili murmurs, not taking his eyes off the flickering flames. His shoulder nudges against Kili’s, who takes it as permission to shift closer, winding a comforting arm over Fili’s shoulder.

“Why not?”

“Ah,” Fili sighs, and that’s all he says for a long moment. “When your parents find you kissing one of the servant boys under the mistletoe, well… let’s just say there are memories that sting. Particularly when I’ve spent every Christmas since that year completely alone.”

Kili can’t imagine that exact scenario, but a part of him does understand how Fili feels. There was no letter from his parents this week. Nor was there one the previous week.

Part of Kili knows that they’re busy preparing for Christmas, but he’s their only son. It shouldn’t be a hardship to check up on him.

“Then they don’t know what they’re missing out on,” Kili replies simply. “I, for one, count myself lucky to have met you, Fili. And I’m honoured to spend Christmas in your home.”

He nudges the gift towards Fili with a shy smile.

Fili looks down at the gift in surprise, and then looks up at Kili quickly, his expression twisted with guilt. “I didn’t think to get you anything.”

Kili’s smile doesn’t falter, and a steady hand comes up to brush Fili’s cheek. “I require nothing.”

The moment hangs between them and then Fili surges forward, his hand curving around the back of Kili’s head and then their lips are meeting. There’s a clash of teeth and a burst of pain, and then they correct themselves until there’s nothing but _want_ and _need_ and _more_.

They make love for the first time in front of the fire, and neither of them move until long after it dies.

* * *

Kili wonders what his parents would say if they knew. He doubts their words would hurt him, because at least then they’d be acknowledging him. He thinks instead about the people that matter to him. Fili. His horse, Seamus. His fallen comrades.

His old Captain, Thorin. He was the first person to ever see what Kili had so often tried to hide about himself. Amidst Kili’s panic, Thorin had drawn a picture from his breast pocket of a young man, smoking a pipe and sitting in a huge armchair. Thorin sits beside him, smiling widely.

Kili had studied the picture carefully. “You’ll be killed if anyone finds out,” he’d told Thorin.

Thorin had simply smiled. “Find what you love and let it kill you. That’s the only way to live a happy life.”

* * *

Kili glances over at his lover, and finds a worried gaze aimed in his direction.

“What are you thinking?” Fili asks, almost hesitantly.

Between them, their hands bump together and Kili interlocks their fingers.

“I was thinking that I’d like to stay here forever,” Kili whispers. “That I’d like to stay with _you_ forever.”

The temperature is below freezing. His fingers begin to tremble at the chill, even as the wind howls outside. Fili’s reply, if he gives one, is lost to that sound, but as a warm body covers his, Kili knows he has his answer.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them! Leave a comment below, or even a kudos.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ [fikidurin](https://fikidurin.tumblr.com)


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